Along Wooded Paths Read online

  The churning in Marianna’s gut also told her she’d been far from fair concerning Aaron. She hadn’t given herself time to get to know him—not really. He’d been in her home and she hadn’t taken full advantage to really get to know his heart.

  Maybe that was the purpose of him being here. Maybe the accident happened so she wouldn’t walk away from God’s designed plan.

  “I’m sorry I blubbered on.”

  Marianna rose and shook her head. “I’m thankful you’ve opened up to me. I needed to hear these things. But you have to know that Marilyn and Joanna, their deaths are not your fault. You—”

  From the bedroom next door, Joy’s cry split the air. Mem rose. She wiped her face again and placed a hand on Marianna’s shoulder. “I know.”

  But as Mem hurried away, Marianna had a feeling she didn’t know. Well, maybe she knew it with her head, but not with her heart. Marianna let out a low shuddering breath. Mem carried so much with her still. No wonder she didn’t want her daughter to get too close to an Englischman. She knew the cost of such a mistake.

  Dear Journal,

  I heard a confession today I’m finding hard to believe. I won’t mention the person’s name because I don’t want this journal to be picked up by someone and have her secret there for all to see, but it was something I’d never guessed.

  Sometimes it’s easy to forget there was a past before we existed. More than most people, we Amish know about our ancestors. We heard the stories of their seeking and their persecution. We understand their desire to follow God and not the ways of the world. Yet sometimes it’s those closest to us who we do not understand. We are quick to display our right living on the outside, but hide what’s hurting most deep within.

  Am I doing the same? I have to ask myself. The answer I’m afraid is yes. If I were to live what my heart tells me, I wouldn’t be following the ways of those who’ve gone before me—not completely any way. I never thought I’d ever face this battle. I had everything planned. Yet the planning means nothing when one’s heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Not long after Dat left for work, Ellie was the first one awake. She wandered downstairs holding notebook paper and crayons. Marianna made her toast, but Ellie wasn’t interested. So Marianna sat at the table and watched her little sister draw a picture of a family. Their family, she guessed. She noticed the brown fluffy creature she assumed was Trapper.

  “Is that Mem and Dat?” Marianna point to the man with the beard and the woman with the kapp.

  Ellie giggled. “Nein. Yer silly.”

  So, not their family. Marianna glanced to the couch where Aaron slept. “Is that Aaron?” Aaron had blond hair not brown, but Ellie was only three.

  “Nein. Ben.”

  “Ben?”

  “Ja.”

  “But Ben doesn’t have a beard.”

  “He will. When you get married.”

  Marianna looked to Aaron again, just to make sure he slept. Then she leaned closer to Ellie. “But Ellie, I’m not going to marry Ben.”

  “Ja. Ben lobes you.”

  “Nein, he doesn’t, Ellie. He’s just a friend.”

  “Uncle Ike says he should.”

  “Uncle Ike said that? Were they talking about this yesterday when they were upstairs with you?”

  Ellie nodded. “I say yes!” Ellie put down her crayon and stood on the wooden bench. Marianna laughed and pulled Ellie into her arms. The little girl giggled, but Marianna struggled to understand. What had Uncle Ike been thinking? If anything, he should have discouraged Ben.

  She prepared to probe for more details when she heard movement behind her. Aaron sat up, reaching for his crutches. His face wore a scowl. As bad as it sounded, she hoped the scowl was because his leg ached and not because he’d had heard their conversation.

  He rose and, movements slow, made his way to the small, indoor bathroom. Before he was halfway across the room a new thought hit her. Would Ben become Amish? Was that why Ellie drew him with a beard? Had Ben and Uncle Ike talked about him growing one? Very few Englisch joined their church, but she’d heard it being done.

  Did Ben love her enough for that? Would he give up all comforts to win her heart?

  No, it was impossible. No matter how Ben tried, he could never be Amish. He’d have to give up his music, and she could never ask that. Besides, a wonderful Amish man loved her. She needed to remember that. God had already given her what she desired.

  Still holding Ellie, Marianna watched Aaron cross the room. He was a good man. He would make a wonderful husband. He was what she needed.

  Marianna pulled Ellie tighter into her arms, remembering how Ben had held her last night as he’d said good-bye . . .

  She pulled her rebellious thoughts back into line. “It’s Aaron.” Her whispered words were firm. “It’s been him all along. And it will always be him.”

  Two hours later Marianna’s lips curled into the slightest smile as she washed up the breakfast dishes. She was thankful she had a later shift today. It had given her time to spend with the kids before rushing off. It had also given her time to make Aaron a nice breakfast, including a breakfast casserole—and he’d come back for second and third helpings. That was gut. Maybe doing that for Aaron helped make up for what happened the other day with Ben. It helped her feel better, anyways.

  It was a beautiful walk to work. The sun was bright. Yesterday the snow had been wet and mushy, like half-melted ice cream, but today all those ridges and swirls had frozen solid.

  It was only a week before Thanksgiving, so a long winter still stretched ahead. Even so, today’s sun was a pleasant break, though it gave no warmth to the air.

  She enjoyed the snow, despite the chill. When spring came, she was going to miss this. Either the snow was going to leave, or she was. Maybe both. Walking the snowy road to work had become her time to dwell on what was on her heart and mind. The snow muted the world, in a way, making her thoughts louder. And when she prayed, she dared to make her words to God louder too—her voice lifting through the tree branches splayed over the road.

  The wind picked up as she went along, and Marianna walked with brisk steps, her teeth clattering. A cold fog filled the air, as if clouds had left the sky and decided to hang around on the ground for a while. The sunlight she’d so appreciated was first muted, then blocked off.

  So much for her nice walk.

  A rumble of a truck’s engine met her ears even before she could see it. She stepped to the side, partly climbing a hill to get out of the road. But instead of moving past, the truck stopped.

  Her heart pounded and she turned—Ben? But no. This was a large, brown truck. Edgar’s smiling face peered from over the steering wheel. He motioned for her to get in.

  She moved to the door, yanking on it to open it.

  “Jump in. I’ll give you a ride before you freeze that bonnet to your head.”

  She didn’t have to be asked twice.

  “Thank you, Edgar, I appreciate it.” After slamming the door shut, she pulled her mittens off her hands and then blew into her hands, warming them.

  “At least it’s warmer than yesterday, and it was sunny then! Why doesn’t the sun bring heat?”

  Edgar put the truck into gear. “It does, but what the clouds bring is insulation. Like a blanket in the sky, they keep the heat on the ground.” Edgar shook his head. “I hear folks at the store complaining all the time about the clouds, but sometimes they don’t realize that’s what’s helping them.”

  “We all do that, I think,” Marianna said as the truck turned, heading onto the main road to the store. “We complain about what we have, not realizing the alternative could be worse. Far worse.”

  Like her. She’d been complaining that she cared for two men, and they cared for her. It could be worse. She could have no one to share her love.

  But you don’t have to worry any longer. Now you have one man to care for. You’ve made your choice, and it’s right.

 
; That was true. And yet . . . she still couldn’t make the ache go away. She looked out the window.

  Ben was leaving today. The thought pierced her through. Maybe he’d already left. His absence was like the clouds closing in. Yes, in a way he’d made life more difficult for her, as she battled her conflicted feelings. But Ben had brought a warmth to her life and heart. A warmth unlike any she’d ever known. A warmth she couldn’t explain.

  Like the clouds, he’d been a protecting presence. And she’d miss that, even though the sun continued to shine.

  Ben strode up the stairs, down the hall, and to the media room. He walked in, almost expecting Carrie to be sitting in there. He let out the breath he’d been holding when he saw the room was empty. He wanted to talk to Carrie and make things right, but today was not the day. On the drive down to Kalispell he’d done the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

  He’d faced the fact that things were not going to work out with Marianna. That they never would.

  Now, as he moved through the media room, he found the studio door open. Roy sat at the soundboard, fiddling with the controls.

  “Got some good news,” Roy stated flatly without looking up.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “My buddy in Nashville loves your song. He doesn’t want to wait for the complete album. He’s going to push it out there as a single and get folks interested in you. Should be hitting the airwaves around Christmas. He wants us to keep working on more songs. Maybe even consider a video.”

  “That’s good news.” Ben sat in the chair next to Roy. “So why don’t you sound too thrilled?”

  Roy glanced up and his eyebrows almost met in the middle. “Why don’t you guess.”

  “Carrie told you we had a disagreement.” Ben rubbed his brow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  “C’mon, Ben.” Roy stood, cursing. He turned his back to Ben, his fists balled at his side. “I’m not worried about my princess’s broken heart. That’s nothing new. She’ll mend. But what bothers me is this woman that you’re supposedly in love with . . . is Amish?” Roy turned around, narrowing his gaze. “Tell me Carrie made it up. If not, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. A chick with a bonnet. Tell me you’re not serious. How am I supposed to market that to your audience?”

  “Listen.” Ben forced his words to remain calm. “I know. You don’t have to say it.”

  “You know?” Roy pointed a finger at Ben’s chest. “I’ve already put up with your running away to the woods. Why? Because during your comeback tour, it’ll be a great story to tell. Fans dig that stuff. I’ve been patient as you’ve headed back up in those mountains to pray. Haven’t I been patient?”

  Ben nodded. Roy could rant—he’d seen it before—but he wouldn’t interrupt. Roy needed to get it off his chest. All of it.

  “Seriously, I don’t care if you hook up with some Hannah Montana wannabe. Fans will eat that up. They’ll want to see what you’re doing and who you’re with. But some Amish girl? She can’t even get her photo taken . . . and those clothes. No makeup?” He shook his head. “Please tell me that you’ve been considering this. You’ve changed your mind.”

  Ben sighed. “Actually, I have.”

  Roy’s arms dropped to his side and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth, then pressed it shut. It was obvious he still had half of his rant ready to go, but with Ben’s confession he wasn’t going to get the chance.

  Ben leaned forward, resting elbows on knees. “You have to understand, I went into the woods for a simpler life. Someone like Mar—um—like this woman fits that perfectly. But I’ve realized it isn’t going to work. Our lives are too different. There is no way it would be possible unless one of us leaves our way of life behind.”

  “So this chick’s out of your life?” Roy plopped back down into his chair.

  “I still consider her a friend, but . . .” Ben wiped his hands on his jeans, trying to wipe the sweat off his palms. “I’m pretty sure it’s not going anywhere.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” Roy pressed his hands against his face. Then from between his fingers, laughter spilled into the room. “Last night I had a nightmare of girls in bonnets and aprons dancing in your video, but what scared me most was when I woke up and realized Amish can’t dance. It’s not allowed.” His relieved laughter continued, and Ben joined in, not because he thought the situation was funny, but because he told himself to pretend.

  Pretend his heart wasn’t breaking.

  Pretend he really cared about his song.

  Pretend this is where he wanted to be. Right here.

  Not sitting in the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, watching Marianna hum his music unaware.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Marianna hurried toward the small, log schoolhouse. A thin trail of smoke wound its way out the silver stovepipe, corkscrewing up into the gray, dreary sky. She opened the door just a crack and slipped inside. The air was warm and moist. The creak of the door opening broke the silence, and a dozen heads turned.

  The schoolteacher Miss Emma Litwiller was hunched over, helping a student at his desk. She lifted her head and turned. Her features softened when she noticed Marianna standing there.

  Marianna slipped out of her coat. “Got off work early. Jest waiting for my brothers for some company home.”

  Emma nodded, and Marianna sat down to wait.

  She hadn’t worked more than five hours. She’d told Annie she wasn’t feeling well, which was the truth. The more it settled in her mind that Ben was gone, that they’d never be more than friends, the more her stomach ached.

  Annie let her go home early. Yet, she didn’t want to walk home alone. To do that would be to let her thoughts carry her away. Besides, she had a good excuse for coming and waiting. It was Charlie’s first day back at school after his accident. Seeing that Charlie had his nose in a book—and didn’t seem to be having any discomfort—she turned her attention to the room, which was similar to their schoolhouse back in Indiana.

  Colorful student artwork covered the walls. Arithmetic problems filled a chalkboard. Fourteen students from first to eighth grade sat in handmade desks. Emma’s homemade posters and lessons were also tacked up. Marianna looked at one closest to her.

  Bees can sting, oh, this is true,

  But bees can make good honey too,

  And that’s the kind we have for you.

  She smiled as she read the rest of the poster that talked about how to “bee” reverent, “bee” generous, “bee” thoughtful. It was just the type of poem she’d hoped to share with her children some day. She looked around. This was just the type of place and education she wanted them to have, which only confirmed she made the right choice.

  “Class, please rise and we will conclude by singing In der stillen Einsamkeitâ,” Emma said.

  “In der stillen Einsamkeitâ,” Marianna repeated in a whisper. Her favorite. As the children stood and sang together, she joined in.

  In quiet solitude,

  You will find your praise prepared,

  Great God hear me,

  For my heart seeks You.

  You are unchanging,

  Never still and yet at rest.

  You rule the seasons of the year.

  And bring them in at their proper time.

  Marianna replayed the last few sentences in her mind as the children finished their song. How many times had she sung that song. Hundreds? Thousands. She’d sung it in school at least a couple times a week as a child, but now . . . how easy to forget those words. Maybe God had led her to the school today for this reason—to remember.

  The brush of butterfly wings tickled her heart. Then the feeling grew and turned, churning up emotion that refused to be frozen by the cold outside. Never still and yet at rest, the song said.

  Are You speaking that to me, Lord? I’m busy with many things—work, my family. But since You told us to love and care for others, that’s what I’ve been doing. But inside . . . is it
possible to have rest there?

  Marianna thought of Ellie on Dat’s lap. Her little sister’s favorite way to snuggle was with her cheek pressed against Dat’s chest, close to his beating heart. Although Ellie lay awake for at least ten minutes before he took her to bed, her hands hung limp to her side. If her feet moved at all, it was in rhythm of the rocking chair. It didn’t matter what storm raged outside the window. The wind could howl. The trees creak and sway, but Ellie was in her father’s care.

  The children sang the song again. Marianna joined them in singing the last two verses. Hearing her voice, a few of the children turned. They waved and smiled.

  “You rule the seasons of the year. And bring them in at the proper time,” she sang again in a soft whisper. Like the year had its seasons, her life seemed to go in a similar cycle. Fall hit her hard and winter hadn’t come, but spring . . . maybe spring held new hope?

  Earlier today she’d been sad to think of the snow melting, but the once-frozen snow would water new life. Her talks with God wouldn’t be wasted, even if she was not getting answers. Her prayers were useful, even if they were just being stored up until God was ready to use them to water the changes in her life, at the good and proper time.

  She smiled. As much as she enjoyed spending time with her Englisch neighbors, she couldn’t forget who God brought her to first—the Amish community that cared for each other so well. That taught their children what was right and good.

  She had to be thankful for that.

  On the walk home the clouds were spread thin against the canvas of the sky. It was as if an artist had dipped the tip of his paintbrush in white and whooshed a light-handed yet broad sweep across the sky. She glanced to the red-nosed boys walking with her. Did they notice? Of course not. They trailed sticks behind them, drawing lines in the snow and making a competition over who could make the straightest line.